Twist in the Tale
by Pereybere
Summary: An afternoon game, meant for children with an adult undertone, ends in the best way Brennan thinks possible.


**Title: **Twist in the Tale

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, unfortunately for me.

**Rating: **T, because sex is mentioned.

**Summary: **An afternoon game, meant for children with an adult undertone, ends in the best way Brennan thinks possible.

**A/N: **I love Bones. I hope you like my story. It's really just harmless fluff with I like to indulge in sometimes. Let me know.

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We'd been together for awhile.

It was comfortable. He was patient and understanding. We did things together that normally wouldn't have been interesting to me. He taught me how to play chess – which is turns out, really is boring, but I love how I always beat him.

We eat dinner together, almost every night, and I've come to learn that Booth likes milk with almost every meal. Except occasionally, when he'll permit himself a glass of wine. He always lets me pick. Who knew he was a perfect gentleman? Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows how damn lucky I am.

At the weekend, usually on Sunday, we go for a walk and talk. About things. I've finally learnt to overcome my emotional constipation, as Booth calls it, and talk openly about my parents. He, not so open himself, tells me different stories about being a Ranger. Sometimes, when he talks about his 'buddies', he smiles fondly and it makes me smile, too.

On days like today, when neither of us have much to say, we play games. Booth had Parker yesterday, and the kid left his games.

I approach the plastic mat with trepidation. It says 'Twister' and Angela has mentioned it before. She said it inevitably ends in sex or muscle pain. I would rather forego the second option, but then, Booth and I rarely need an excuse to indulge in the first. Which sometimes ends in the second anyway.

Once I have finished confusing myself, I shrug and agree, albeit reluctantly, to play. Booth explains the rules, which as it happens, is pretty basic. He says that, surprisingly, the most difficult part is spinning the wheel when your limbs are spread in four different directions.

"Shouldn't there be a third person, then?" I ask, removing my shoes.

Booth sets the board on the floor, and chuckles. "Ever heard that three's a crowd?" He winked at me, and I find myself amazed at how Booth's suggestive looks can often make me want to forget all other activities that don't involve us naked, together, in bed.

"Should I take off my socks?" I see the innuendo form on his lips, and I shake my head. "This is all I am offering to remove, by the way." He sighs patiently.

"For now, then." He spins the wheel, then tells me to put my right foot on red. I do. Then sigh. This is hardly difficult. I understand why it's Parker's game. Kids are so easily amused.

Booth puts his left hand on blue, and I wonder at just how well he bends…

"Left foot on green, Bones…" he says, and I am forced to spread my legs in a wide 'V' across the plastic mat.

Within minutes, we're tangled up in ways only a contortionist should be able to achieve. My leg is over Booth's shoulder, and his toes poke the back of my neck as I stretch my arms to dangerous lengths to the far red dot. I cannot move, because my body as seized and if I do, I am likely to break my back on the legs beneath me.

"Quite the predicament," Booth says, wiggling his fingers in the general direction of the wheel. His fingertips brush it, and it spins half heartedly, demanding that I twist my leg in an awkward position over Booth's chest, to red. I feel like my ass is embarrassingly close to his face. But it doesn't matter, because if I drop my head, I can see his crotch. And he's…

Oh man.

"Yes," I agree. "Quite the predicament…"

He snags the waist of my jeans, flips me, and in a second, he's over me. Our limbs are a flying mass, as we untangle ourselves in half the time it took to knot us together. His knee his between my thighs, and his hands are all over me; beneath my shirt, over my back, stroking my breasts and I cannot breathe.

"I think we should…" he begins, dropping his mouth to mine. I imagine he's going to complete his sentence with 'go to bed', but in between nipping my lips, he speaks. "get married." I am so stunned that my body seizes into something that resembles rigor mortis. My eyes are wide and round, and he chuckles at my reaction. I want to blurt out a million logical reasons why his suggestion is more insane than a game of Twister.

We've only been together six months. It felt like a long time, only an hour ago. But now, it feels like I've only met him. I feel like I'm looking into the eyes of a stranger whose asked me to become his wife, and I am quite astounded by my reservations. Marriage, to Booth?

I want to scorn the idea, then I find myself why that would be so bad? He pisses me off – no end! He is frustratingly obtuse when it comes to science, and he's too busy being sensitive and human to realise that sometimes the facts out weigh the sentiment. But all these things, I realise, are work related.

When we're at home, Booth is the most amazing man I've ever had the privilege, which is what it is, to be with. He cooks, he reads, he listens to my music, he'd taught me about life and things that don't really matter but in other ways, matter so much. He taught me how to play chess and sometimes, when he allows me to challenge him intellectually, we play Trivial Pursuit.

We eat dinner, drink wine, chat over coffee and go for walks, just like normal people. Outside of work, he stop being Booth and Brennan and become Seeley and Temperance and even though we rarely use our first names, our personas at home are completely different.

We match. We work. The past six months have been a blur of companionship and brilliant sex. I sigh, stroking his cheek.

"Of course we should," I agree, and he grins maniacally, swooping to kiss me. I am breathless – delirious with shock and delight as he begins to undress me. My back aches, a little, and I realise Angela was half right.

Twister inevitably does end in sex or muscle ache. Or both. And sometimes, if you're really lucky, it can end with I really appropriate proposal.


End file.
